


Less Lonely

by coolbyrne



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28573536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: Jack helps a victim's daughter face grief. (Touch of Slibbs)
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	Less Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request by a reader going through a loss. I hope this helps in some small way, @we-take-care-of-each-others.

_Why does it take a minute to say 'hello' but forever to say 'goodbye'?_

…..

The pursuit of justice, as an idea, was noble, and finding it was a hell of a reward. But along the way, the trail to that reward was littered with loss and grief and tragedy. Hell, in his line of work, the trail started that way, and it was when he was faced with the real people behind his pursuit that he felt his most helpless. He could chase down a lead, figuratively and literally, but helping someone believe justice gave some kind of silver lining? That was out of his league, and not for the first time was he thankful when he heard the conference room door open. He knew she'd show up at exactly the right moment, like she had an empathic antenna that was tuned into his emotional frequency. Or maybe she just knew when someone else was hurting.

"Hey Kayla," Jack said.

He saw this as his opportunity to escape, to leave the emotional stuff in the hands of the expert. But the young woman reached for his wrist as he stood, and he froze.

"Please. Stay." She must have sensed his uncertainty because she offered a weak shrug. "You just remind me of him, that's all." Her gaze fell to the balled up tissue in her other hand.

His surreptitiously went to Jack who gave an imperceptible nod. Inhaling deeply, he held out his chair for Jack, then took the one to her left. 

"Thank you," Kayla sniffled, eyes still downcast. 

The room fell silent. While he wasn't one to need chatter or noise, the silence of grief always made him feel restless, always made him wonder what word or action needed to be said or done to break the quiet. Without looking, Jack lowered her left hand to privately squeeze his under the table. She let the silence settle over the room, allowing everyone to gather their thoughts.

Softly, she spoke. "Isn't it weird how one person missing makes the whole world feel empty?"

The question brought a tremble to Kayla's chin. She began tearing bits of tissue from the wad between her fingertips, building a soft white pile of grief. It took her two tries before she could speak. "The football game was on last night," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "I kept expecting him to come running into the living room with pizza before kickoff."

Jack smiled at the image. "What kind of pizza?"

"Meat lovers'. Extra bacon."

"My kinda guy," Gibbs said, offering condolences in the only way he knew how.

Another lull knitted between them, then Jack said, "Part of my job as a psychologist is to help people through their grief, to try and get them past their sorrow, but you know something? I learned more about loss from experience than I ever did from a book. And here's what I know-" She took in a deep breath. "Grief isn't one big moment. It's pieces that pile up on you when you least expect it. Out of the blue, you'll hear a song on the radio, or smell a cologne on someone who walks by. Or you'll see a football game on TV." She made sure to make eye contact with Kayla and showed her a gentle smile. "And they're going to feel like shards of glass in your heart. And you’re going to take tweezers and pull them out, and the whole time you're going to think, 'Really, brain? Can you just not?'" It was his turn to squeeze her hand, and she seemed to draw strength from it. "But I've also learned that healing comes in pieces, too. And one day, you'll hear that song and remember how he'd sing it in the car, totally off-key, and you'll laugh. And you'll smell that cologne and cringe at the idea that you saved up your allowance to buy it for him for Father's Day. And it smelled so bad! But he wore it until the bottle was empty, because you gave it to him." The scenario pulled a small laugh from Kayla. Jack reached over to put her hand over hers. "And I promise you, one day, you'll order a meat lovers' pizza and yell at the quarterback through the TV, because that’s what your dad would’ve done."

The words, though consoling, brought out a fresh set of tears. "When?" Kayla asked.

"Oh, sweetheart," Jack said, rubbing the girl's knuckles with her thumb. "I wish I knew. I wish there was a timetable or a schedule where you could say, 'Thirty days have gone by; I'm over it.' But it doesn't work that way. And don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?" She waited for the small nod in reply. "You aren't obligated to 'get over it', and you dictate the timeline."

The words seemed to give Kayla not only a comfort but a strength, because when she nodded again, it had more certainty. Still, she faltered slightly when she looked at Gibbs and said, "I don't know what I'm going to do without him."

He had faced the same desperate loneliness enough times that he felt like he should have an answer. But he didn’t. "All I know is, whatever good things you loved about him? Be those things. An' he'll always be there."

A light rap on the door caught their attention, and McGee poked his head in with an apology. "Sorry, Boss, but Lieutenant Stephenson is here."

"Mom!" Kayla jumped to her feet at the sight of her mother, and the duo ran into each other's arms.

"They got me here as fast as they could." The words were muffled into her daughter's hair.

Jack squeezed Gibbs' hand, this time as a signal, and they slowly stood to avoid interrupting the reunion. Despite their attempt, Kayla caught the movement and pulled away briefly from her mother to embrace Jack.

"Tell Agent Gibbs I'll be that person."

Jack nodded at the whispered promise. Stepping back but not letting go, she said, "If you ever need anything, give me a call."

Behind her, Gibbs took out his notepad and pen, scribbled down two numbers, and handed it to Kayla. "Hers and mine. Whatever you need."

Kayla looked down at the paper. "Thank you." She glanced up at her mom and the tears came again. 

As the mother and daughter found comfort in each other's hug, Jack and Gibbs quietly slipped out of the room.

…..

They walked down the hallway in silence, but rather than head downstairs, Gibbs stopped at the railing that overlooked the lower floor. Jack joined him, drawing in a slow, deep breath through her nose before exhaling softly through her mouth. 

"That was a lovely thing you said in there," she told him.

He deflected the praise with a shrug. His stare went out over the bullpen even if it had no focal point, his fingers laced together as his hands hung over the rail. It took him three breaths before he spoke. "I still got a half empty bottle of cologne in the medicine cabinet." As was her nature, she let him control the amount of emotion he wanted to unravel. "Kelly bought it for me. For Father's Day." He glanced to his side to let her know how amazed he was at her scenario. It had been a portrait of something that happened a million times a year, but had hit close to home.

She acknowledged the weight of his confession by carrying some of the load with humour. "Old Spice?"

The question and her expression brought out a surprising laugh. "No. Worse. Some god awful thing she bought at the mall with a bull head on it."

"Maybe she was trying to tell you something."

He nodded. "Yeah, probably."

She bit the inside of her cheek as she contemplated her next words. "There was a tape deck in the 939 we drove around the desert," she began. "Which makes sense, considering the thing was 100 years old." He chuckled at her recollection of the Army vehicle. "Hale's sister sent him some mixed tapes. I couldn't listen to 'I Love Rock 'n' Roll' for years without wanting to smash something."

"And now?"

She closed her eyes at a private memory. "Now? I play that song at least once a month and belt it out at the top of my lungs. I'm sure my neighbours appreciate it." The comfort of shared pain brought them closer. "You ever open the bottle?"

He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "No. I guess I never thought I needed to."

"It's enough that you have the bottle."

"Yeah." His fingers curled around the railing as he stood up straight. "And I'd never get the smell outta my bathroom."

She laughed as he knew she would. "Come on," she said, looping her arm with his and hugging his bicep. "I'll buy you a pizza. Extra bacon."

…..

-end


End file.
